Lights, Camera, Mayhem!  A Christmas Trifle
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: On a commercial shoot during the Christmas season, Hiei finds not only mistletoe festooning the ceiling, but his allies acting like Sailor Senshi.


Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

My canon: a combination of the American YYH manga and the subtitled anime. The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows that timeline. By reading those fics in order, certain character traits and development will make sense.

Title: Lights, Camera, Mayhem! (A Christmas Trifle)

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor

Rating: K/PG-13 for anime-style fight scenes

Summary: On a commercial shoot during the Christmas season, Hiei finds not only mistletoe festooning the ceiling, but his allies acting like Sailor Senshi.

A/N: When did I start the habit of writing a YYH Christmas tale annually? And why?

It started with what seemed the obvious choice: _A Yuu Yuu Carol_, my take on the Dickens classic, and continued with _X-Mas With an Angel_ (my first, and probably only, crossover story), right through to _The Thirteenth Attempt _(Yuusuke versus ramen).

This particular Christmas story owes quite a bit to Sailor Moon, and takes place within the time-frame of _The Book of Cat With Moon,_ right after the Cowboy Trilogy in fact. Here we see Hiei in his role as an actor in commercials, established in _Firebird Sweet,_ likewise in _Operation Rosary_ (which also introduces his work for the mysterious 'Agency._'_) Thanks for reading this, and please review!

Because some days you just have to chew through the leather straps….

**In the name of the rose, I'll punish you!**

Lights, Camera, Mayhem! (A Christmas Trifle)

by

Kenshin

'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house-

No, Hiei corrected himself. This wasn't a house but a hotel. In fact, _the_ hotel.

One of the banquet rooms had been turned into a makeshift sound stage. It was Yuletide-cold because the air conditioners were working overtime to compensate for the effects of blazing movie lights. The ceiling had been temporarily covered, not only with sound-baffling material, but garlands of greenery, including several bouquets of misteltoe tucked in strategic locations.

Hiei's chair was tilted back against the wall. With legs outstretched and arms folded, he gave every sign of being asleep. But through one slitted eyelid, he watched, ready for anything.

They were back on Kubikukuri island, filming a commercial spot for the Dark Tournament Lite. Unlike the original extravaganza, killing was out of the question, showmanship ruled, and trumped-up grudge matches between elite fighters made it seem more like pro wrestling than a life-or-death struggle.

Still…

In the spotlight, a young man with licorice hair and mischievous brown eyes struck a pose. This was Urameshi Yuusuke at bat, but he was not the only star present. Apart from the film crew, there were three others like Urameshi, Hiei among them.

Down the line from Hiei, his face partly hidden by a mane of russett hair, Kurama, known in the human realm as Minamino Shuuichi, was immersed in a book on molecular biology… and surprisingly enough, so was the hulking Kuwabara Kazuma, who scowled at his text as though it might suddenly turn and bite him.

Then there was the crew.

Like a children's fairy tale gone horribly wrong, several creatures of unknown ancestry manned the camera, lighting and sound equipment. Most resembled humans, in that they had one head each, plus two arms and two legs, but some sported gray skin, some lavender, and one a set of goat's horns. A cameraman and a gaffer could not be mistaken for human under any circumstances; one looked like a mandrill, and the other nothing so much as a large shaggy cactus with a single eye in the middle of its forehead.

A short distance from the technical crew, three girls stood shoulder-to-shoulder as though glued together by tension. The tallish girls on either end appeared almost human, the rightmost one with a yellow dress that matched her clipboard, and brown hair, foxtail and ears; the leftmost one wore a track suit featuring a cut-out for the green tail which matched the color of her hair and ears, but not the color of the script in her hand.

This pair of _youkai_ were the only crew familiar to Hiei, for they had been officials at the Dark Tournament. Both were attractive by human standards; Koto with her enormous green eyes, Juri's baby blues.

But the middle girl, petite, with glimmering gray eyes, won hands down, and was human stem to stern, and all his, stem to stern: Shayla Kidd, Spellcaster extraordinaire.

Shay-san raised her megaphone. "Lights, camera. Action!"

The boy in the spotlight thumped his chest. "It's me! Urameshi Yuusuke-_sama_, the handsome Romantic Soldier in charge of kicking everyone's ass-"

"Cut, cut, cut." With infinite weariness, Shayla Kidd stopped the action.

_Cue director fit_, thought Hiei.

Urameshi threw up his hands. "Wha'd I do this time?"

Hiei's mouth twitched in amusement. Wearing knickers, argyle vest, and a cap that covered her marigold hair, Shay-san was play-acting 'director' to the hilt. Older than the others by a handful of years, she used this scrap of authority to add weight to her role as director, addressing the unruly boy. "Yuusuke. Do the words, 'kicking everyone's ass' appear anywhere within the script?"

"They should," said Urameshi.

Shayla Kidd spoke to him through her megaphone. "Thank you for your input, Yuusuke. However, those words are indeed nowhere to be found in the script, which, by the way, I did not write."

"Oh, sure!" Juri cradled the script like it was a baby. "Blame the writer!"

Shayla Kidd put down her megaphone and swiveled her head until her gaze met Juri's. The room stilled.

"Can you answer these questions, Juri-san?" she inquired sweetly. "Whose uncle is a famed entertainment attorney? Oh, that's' right-me. Who's been on an actual movie set? Oh, that's right-me. Who had a part in an actual movie starring Mr. Clint Eastwood? Oh, that's right-moi. And who starred as the fairy queen in Naked Japanese-"

Hiei opened one eye. "No one was actually naked-"

Shayla Kidd didn't miss a beat. "-Shakespeare? Oh, that's right. ME."

"Fine," Juri fumed.

Shay-san turned to Urameshi. "Now, Yuusuke. Once more, with feeling-AND THE RIGHT LINES."

Juri's little dragonette ears flattened. "I am so going back to growing apples."

"I heard that," said Shay-san.

"Good," said Juri.

In the pre-production meetings, Shayla Kidd, Koto and Juri had gotten on well enough, earnestly discussing the script and schedule and never once resorting to violence. Now, however, they seemed one step short of a hair-pulling match. Hiei wondered why.

Shayla Kidd indeed had the show-biz pedigree. But what made her a good director was her ability to 'read' her performers, and adopt the correct approach to each, whether bolstering, cajoling, or outright bullying.

Urameshi, who had been clowning all day, interrupted. "What's my motivation?" he asked Shay-san.

"Not to get killed by me," she replied.

Urameshi blinked. "I thought you _liked_ me."

"I do. I like you all. That is why I want this shoot to go right. Which also means FAST."

"People, please." A rather droopy Koto reminded them that they were indeed on the clock.

"See," sniggered Urameshi, "this is what you get for putting chicks in charge."

Shayla Kidd favored the boy with another dangerous smile. "I'm telling Keiko-chan."

Urameshi whitened, and slunk back to his spot.

"What's taking her so long anyway?" Shay-san fretted. "And Botan-san?" Botan and Keiko were employed as production assistants, which really meant gophers: _Go fer coffee, go fer sodas, go fer smokes._ "This has got to be the world's longest bathroom break."

"That's my little dictator," murmured Hiei, with genuine affection. In fact, it was he who had made a request of Botan and Keiko, and if they were following through, they would not return any time soon.

In her role as dictator, (_director_, Hiei corrected himself), Shayla Kidd was covering a lot of bases. The balance of the lighting was tricky-Hiei in black, the others in brights or neutrals. Shay-san had made Urameshi change from a white t-shirt to a gray, just so the monitors wouldn't have an anyeurism. For that same reason, Hiei wore not his black mantle and white scarf, but black jeans and a blacker sweat shirt with sawed-off arms, another of his signature looks.

"Back to work, everyone." The slate clapped, Shayla-Kidd called for action-but Urameshi froze, his mouth hanging open like a carp.

"Cut."

Urameshi scratched his head. "What were my lines again?"

Juri marched over to Urameshi and shoved the script at him. "There you go, Sailor Yuusuke."

The continuing popularity of the Sailor Moon cartoon and comic franchise, even extending to the demon plane, assured that this commercial, a Sailor Moon parody, would play in Peoria. Koto had done the voice-over: 'Get your tickets now, or in the name of the tournament, the Romantic _senshi_ will punish you!'

As all four boys had been in a band called Romantic Soldier, the comparison seemed apt.

They'd had their fifteen minutes of fame, and more. Every so often, driven by fans with more loyalty than sense, Romantic Soldier made a comeback tour. Shayla Kidd, behind the scenes, writing the songs. Kurama, the front man, cool and sleek, making the girls scream and faint in equal measure. Urameshi, brash, happy-go-lucky. Kuwabara the tough guy, the hard worker, pulling the same audience as his favorite band, Megallica. Lastly, Hiei, brooding in the background-yet, oddly enough, it was one of Hiei's songs that had gone platinum.

After a spate of bickering, a typical Urameshi upbeat-fight number was chosen to play beneath the spot. Hiei stayed out of the argument. His job was not to guide the project but to deliver the product. It was not for nothing he was known in the industry as a one-take wonder.

But, like any production, this one suffered from flubs, fumbles, and endless waiting around.

Shayla Kidd was allergic to wasted time. "Maybe," she spoke through clenched teeth, "we should move on to Kurama while you study your lines."

Properly chastened, Urameshi retired to a corner, script in hand. Putting down his textbook, Kurama came forward. Kuwabara, still reading, rolled his eyes.

Earlier, Kuwabara had put in a surprisingly good turn, performing his line with great vigor, but technical problems with sound had ruined his take. Announcing that if worst came to worst, Kuwabara could loop his dialogue in post, Shayla Kidd moved on to Urameshi.

As always, Hiei would perform his part last. Not only because of his famed prowess at nailing a take, but because this allowed him to keep watch.

There were cameras everywhere, mounted at every angle; cameras for master shots, cameras for close-ups, cameras for long shots. Shay-san insisted on a lot of coverage, and had instilled into the crew the edict: 'Do not stop rolling, on pain of death, until I say _cut_.'

As long as the boys kept their yaps shut during a take and stayed out of the shot, the four of them were free to do as they pleased: stroll to the bathroom or the excellent chow line, take a breather outside, poke a sharp stick into one eye.

In a blue sports jacket and neat khakis, Kurama hit his spot, and, with an air of casual elegance, placed both hands in his pockets. The lighting and sound were adjusted, cameras rolled, and he began. "I am Kurama, the handsome Romantic Soldier of the roses and whips-"

Now it was Kurama's turn to pause.

"CUT."

He coughed delicately into one hand. "I do apologize, but 'roses and whips'-it sounds like a dessert topping."

Kuwabara brayed. Urameshi guffawed. Even Hiei allowed a snort of laughter.

"What. EVER." Snagging Kurama, Juri dragged him into a corner to work with him on the rewrite. With the script propped up on a tea cart, they conferred vigorously. Hiei heard snatches of words: "Crown you with thorns-In the name of the rose-Breach of contract-"

Hiei yawned.

At least Kurama could display a comic turn when it suited him. He also possessed subtlety, unlike Urameshi. Whereas Kuwabara, as though conscious of his shortcomings, approached this shoot with deadly seriousness, the hardest worker of them all.

Like the way they'd all behaved as members of Romantic Soldier, Hiei reflected.

The production manager Masake, a tall thin human with the worried features of a basset hound, timidly claimed Shayla Kidd's attention. As they spoke together-

"Hey!" Urameshi popped up, waving his script. "I want a rewrite, too!"

Hiei rose and stretched. He didn't need a rewrite. Neither, apparently, did Kuwabara, who strolled to the chow line and promoted himself to a croissant. Juri was sequestered with Kurama and Urameshi, yammering away at the both of them, her expressive tail lashing.

Finished with Masake, Shay-san made her way to Hiei's side. "How are you holding up, Soldier?" She shot him Look # 1: friendly, breezy concern.

"I'll survive," Hiei replied. Even on their first meeting, so many years ago, Hiei and Shayla Kidd had worked well together, in sync, in tandem. Like any couple, they fought, but their fights, though frequent and voluable, were strictly on the surface; each held a solid liking and respect for the other. "You, though-you're eating this alive."

"Amen." Studying the cast and crew, she sighed. "But…"

"There's always a but."

"My directorial debut, and no one in the human world will see it."

"Except the ones who work in this hotel."

"All ten of them." Sketching a salute, she departed to confer with the sound man. Tsuji was a young _youkai_, with an open, quizzical look. Apart from his pink hair and double-pointed ears, he appeared as human as Juri or Koto. Shay-san was boosting his confidence to the best of her abilities, but he kept glancing around in a jittery fashion that got on Hiei's nerves. Hiei's solution: sit back down, let his eyes drift partway shut.

That did not prevent him from seeing Koto retreat to a corner desk, an icebag pressed to her head.

"Interesting…" At this time of year, Hiei grew pensive. Being on the island only boosted his philosophical mood.

A rocky fist thrusting up from sea level, Kubikukuri resembles a camel's saddle. Once you embark, you find abundant greenery and a first-class hotel. The very same hotel that had hosted all four of them during the Dark Tournament.

But for their return engagement, they were performers, not combatants. Though it had taken an enormous amount of money to get Hiei even to consider the offer.

And this time, rather than slogging the waters on a rusty barge loaded with murderous _youkai_ and captained by a self-styled pirate, they had been conveyed from the mainland two nights ago by means of a private speedliner, all of them treated like VIPs. Top-of-the-line film and editing equipment awaited them at the hotel.

Hiei and Shay-san's ocean-view suite came equipped with a laptop, fax machine, and printer. Shayla Kidd had added a miniature Christmas tree, a reminder of her promise that they would be home in time to celebrate Christmas with the twins. She phoned perennial babysitter Minamino Shiori, assured herself Michael and Cecila hadn't eaten the real tree, then settled down to work, leaving Hiei free to roam the hotel. He discovered something interesting.

Hence, his vigilence.

Why had they really been called back, some seven years after the Dark Tournament?

The four of them had inevitably grown apart. Hiei seldom saw Urameshi now. He encountered Kuwabara somewhat more frequently on one case or other, surprised at how well they worked together. Kurama, he ran across on a weekly basis.

They hadn't been together in one room for about a year.

No one remains the same forever. It was hard to believe Urameshi was 21; he still acted 14. But he was back from _Makai_, and had started apprenticing with Yukimura Keiko's father at the diner. Keiko herself attended a prestigious girl's school.

Having traded in his carrot-colored pompadour for a buzz-cut that made him look even tougher, Kuwabara did not act 14, given to longer periods of silence between making a fool of himself. Kurama was working as a physician's assistant and taking double classes, and looking just a bit frazzled. Kurama being Hiei's longest-standing friend, the two of them often squabbled like siblings. Hiei figured the best Christmas present he could give him was to stay out of Kurama's weapon-enriched hair.

Even the island had changed, with numerous improvements, among them a race track and casino.

As for Hiei himself, everyday things annoyed him less than they did even a year ago. And if anyone had told him that once the Dark Tournament ended, he would become father to half-human twins Cecilia and Michael, knight of Rome, operative for an organization so secret it referred to itself merely as 'The Agency,' and former member of a highly successful boy band, he would have stabbed the unfortunate prophet to death with a dinner fork.

What was really going on?

"Interesting," Hiei repeated, watching Koto and Juri.

"What is, Shorty?" Kuwabara ambled over, straddled a chair facing Hiei, flicking croissant crumbs from his brown leather jacket.

Hiei deigned to open both eyes. "Don't your lines need changing?"

Kuwabara folded his brawny arms over the back of the chair. "They're fine like they are."

Why share his suspicions with Kuwabara? And yet, the idiot often cut right to the quick, saw into the heart of the matter, gave surprising insight where none was expected. Hiei relented.

Koto was a commentator, not a producer, he explained. Juri a referee, who had shown no previous interest in scriptwriting, though, given that fact, she had done a pretty good job of characterizing the four of them. And as far as Hiei could tell, everyone on the planet wanted to direct, but the job had fallen to Shayla Kidd, and in spite of the tussle with Urameshi just now, she was relishing every minute of it.

Kuwabara still held his book, marking his place with a forefinger. "Of course she is. And?"

A producer's job is to make sure the production runs smoothly. But producers also either front the money to pay for the production, or they find backers. Unless Koto was an heiress, how could she finance the ad, let alone the thing it was advertising? Who was the real producer of this thirty-second spot for The Dark Tournament Lite, With Music By Romantic Soldier? ("All of the mayhem, none of the blood!")

The idiot's Easter Island features creased into a throughtful frown. "In other words, who's the money man?"

Not Koenma, manager of the local branch of Spirit World's judgment gate, though the brat had approved the new tournament, had in fact sent Botan to keep an eye on things. Couldn't be Sakyou, one of the original tournament's backers. Sakyou was dead, and then some.

Kuwabara scratched his chin. "What about Kaitou? Isn't he loaded?"

Hiei's friend Kaitou Yuu indeed had the deep pockets, but hardly the inclination. "He's too busy pretending to be Addison deWitt to sully his hands with something so low-class as a commercial."

"Addison de What?"

"Poison pen guy. Movie character."

"Figures. What about Master Genkai?" he asked, referring to Urameshi's mentor. "She's got money. And a twisted sense of humor."

Kuwabara was right, but- "Not that twisted. She won't have fond memories of this forsaken rock. Neither do I. Never wanted to set foot on it again. You wouldn't believe the cash it took to get me here."

"I'd believe it. They're payin' me like they grow money in a greenhouse. Gotta tell you, it comes in handy." Kuwabara glanced at his book. "Buys me study time and tuition." Then his fierce narrow eyes settled on Hiei, slightly challenging. "I'm gonna be a science teacher, no matter what."

Since Kuwabara was nothing if not determined, Hiei grunted in recognition of that fact.

"And have you noticed this rock isn't so forsaken any more?"

"So who's doing the renovation?"

"Well, I know it ain't me, so that leaves…?" Kuwabara lifted his eyebrows.

"Trouble."

"You think it's a trap?" Kuwabara cut his gaze to the side, marking the positions of the film crew. "That we'll have to fight our way outta here?"

Although he had considered just that possibility, Hiei shook his head.

"Anyway," Kuwabara added, "if someone wanted to off us, he'd have killed us while we slept."

"You have a point."

The ballroom doors banged open. Hiei got to his feet.

What looked like a brick wall in a gangster suit with shoulders a mile wide and lapels to match trundled in.

It was not, in fact a brick wall, but a red _oni_.

_Oni_ are human in shape and come in all colors and sizes, from puny five-footers all the way up to Koenma's blue-skinned assistant, the towering Joruju Saotome.

This _oni_ was a big one. Lacking horns, he had a flattened nose, jug-handle ears, and black hair parted in the center and slicked down with what might have been shale oil.

Without being fully aware of his actions, Hiei left Kuwabara and approached the interloper, remembering.

It was him, all right.

Hiei had always thought of him as 'The Suit,' dating to the moment they had first encountered one another. It occurred on one of Hiei's rare forays into city life. Cities were too constricting, or so Hiei thought back then. You couldn't find a tree to lounge in, couldn't go around hacking people up with your sword.

But for one reason or another, Hiei found himself in a rather large city, just a kid, really, seeking food and a way out, in that order.

The streets were thick with pedestrians, and he wanted to get away. When Hiei turned a corner, The Suit appeared, looking like the Godfather of all Godfathers, and trailing an entourage half a mile long. People stepped back to let them pass. Even, to his shame, Hiei.

He had changed a little since then.

But evidently, The Suit had not. He looked prosperous, and dangerous.

The Suit glared at everyone, claiming the spotlight, dominating the room. He took a deep breath and, in a voice like blood pudding, bellowed, "I'm shuttin' this thing down!"

For once, Shayla Kidd was silent, her gumdrop-gray eyes wide with shock.

Kurama was not. "Shutting it down?"

"No way!" growled Urameshi.

"What the hell's going on?" Kuwabara demanded.

Displaying a mouthful of gold-capped teeth, The Suit declined to explain himself.

The doors bammed open again. Botan and Keiko burst in.

Keiko was now a polished young lady with a French twist. Out of everyone, Botan alone seemed changeless, cheerful and scatterbrained, wearing a pink kimono, her azure hair gathered into a ponytail.

Both gave the appearance of having just run a 5-K race. Leaning over, one hand pressed to her chest, the ferry girl announced, "We followed that guy!"

"Just like you asked," Keiko told Hiei.

"He's been playing Juri off Koto," Botan added.

"What?" Juri and Koto crossed astonished glances with one another.

"And now it looks like he's dumping them both because-"

"Because….." Keiko studied the floor, color rising on her cheeks.

Botan, not so hesitant, planted both fists on her hip, blurting, "Because they wouldn't, you know, 'fork over the goods.'"

"Ewww!" Shay-san's exclamation echoed around the set.

Koto and Juri gaped at The Suit.

"You mean he-he-" Whiskers quivering, Koto could not finish the sentence.

"Bastard!" Juri flushed a deep sienna hue.

_Cue Christmas spirit,_ thought Hiei.

"Shutting it down?" Urameshi scowled. "He can't, can he?"

"I can do whatever I want," The Suit said. " I'm the moneybags."

"Figured as much." Hiei did not take his eyes off the intruder.

"C'mon, girls." The Suit waggled his fingers at the simmering Juri and Koto. "Which of you wants to go first? Or both at once?" Patting his ample gut, he said, "Plenty of me to go around. There's a broom closet just around the corner, so who gets the honor of-"

"Honor? Why, you-" Kuwabara rose, flung down his book. "That does it."

As if they were still on a fighting team, the other three boys gathered alongside him, looking young, strong and dangerous.

Botan and Keiko scurried out of the shot.

In the background, Shay-san picked up her megaphone. Hiei heard, "Lights, camera. Action!"

As one, each member of Romantic Soldier hit his mark, surrounding The Suit in a ring of spirited menace. What had been lacking in their earlier performances sprung forth to answer the battle call.

"Urameshi Yuusuke-sama, the kick-ass handsome Romantic Soldier, is here in the name of the moon or something!" He cracked his knuckles. "Just 'cause I feel like it, I will totally beat the crap out of you!"

"For love and honor, Kuwabara, the manly Romantic Soldier, will defend his town and punish you with both hands tied behind his back!"

"Likewise the handsome Romantic Soldier here." Kurama drew a rosebud from his hair, transformed it, and cracked the whip. "In the name of the rose, this Kurama will elegantly crown you with thorns."

Though Hiei's lines were the most complicated, he knew them as well as he knew his looks, but_- Damned if I'm going to refer to myself as 'handsome.'_

In his most dangerous purr, he announced: "Dragon in one hand, sword in the other, with the Flame of Heaven and Earth, Hiei, the Romantic Soldier of shadow and flight, will punish you in a single take."

The Suit's mouth dropped open.

"CUT!" yelled Shay-san. "Did we get it?"

Both Masake and Tjusi gave her the thumbs-up sign.

"Print it!" she cried. "That's a wrap!"

The crew moved to shut down the equipment, first turning off the more intense lights, which caused a chill to settle over the room.

Nevertheless, beads of sweat the size of cough drops rolled down The Suit's face. "Y-you don't mean to say you filmed all that?"

"I do indeed," Shay-san replied. She beamed at the cast and crew. "And may I say, ladies and gentlemen, that it went perfectly?"

Hiei pretended the compliment was meant for him. "They don't call me 'One-Take' for nothing."

The Suit was still stammering. "Well! Of all the! Who do you think! Looks like I'm done for!"

_But is he?_ wondered Hiei, noting the guy's size and power. Hiei was no pacifist, would fight The Suit if he had to, but these days, he needed a good reason.

In the absence of a good reason to fight, Hiei related how he had first encountered The Suit. He narrowed his eyes at the red _oni_. "Thought I saw you around," he added. "Recognized you. Had you followed."

"I can't get Keiko to do anything!" marveled Urameshi. "How'd you pull that off?"

Keiko glared at Urameshi. "He _asked_."

"Yeah, you got me for sure." The Suit mopped his brow with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. "Oh, well, in the spirit of Christmas-"

"-which you don't even celebrate-" said Hiei.

"-I guess we can let bygones be bygones," The Suit said. "The show goes on."

"I'll keep you to your word," said Shay-san. "Remember, I have the master copy."

The Suit shrugged his linebacker shoulders. "What can I say? Sometimes a guy's too subtle, ya know?"

"Subtle?" spat Koto.

"Subtle," The Suit confirmed. "Hey, if chicks don't know they're competin' against each other, what do I gain?" He winked at Kuwabara, who shuddered in distaste.

"I'm all in favor of clearing things up," said Shayla Kidd, hastily, moving to block both Juri and Koto, who looked as though they were about to charge The Suit armed with nothing but bare hands and a double load of outrage. "I'm also all in favor of putting together a good product in record time."

"I think she's telling us to get back to work," said Kurama.

"Look at it this way." As though pleading his case before a judge, The Suit spread fingers the size of Polish sausages. "Your people are getting exposure, you get to direct, and Hangin' Neck Island's getting a new stadium. The Dark Tournament Lite means jobs for a lot of people."

"Jobs?" repeated Juri.

"Is that all you have to say?" demanded Koto.

"Heck, no." The Suit jerked a thumb at the ceiling, then tapped his cheek. "Hey, girls, look-mistletoe."

"In your dreams," huffed Juri.

"Pig," added Koto.

The girls turned to Shayla Kidd. "If we're no longer needed on the set," began Juri.

"-We'll be in the bar, having a drink," finished Koto.

"Have one for me." Shayla Kidd gave them a wave of dismissal. "Make it two."

The pink-haired sound man, Tsuji, flung Shay-san a desperate look. She nodded, and he bolted after Juri and Koto. Masake, the gangly production manager, was next.

"Where are they going?" Urameshi asked.

Shay-san clasped her hands. "Tsuji's got a big crush on Juri-san."

"What about the production manager?" Botan wondered.

"Masake?" Shay-san nodded at the door. "Koto."

Keiko turned to Urameshi. "Well, maybe _something_ good will come of this."

"I gotta give you credit," said The Suit, "you people have soundly defeated me, put me right in my place, wrapped me up like a Christmas present, and all but shoved me out the door. Guess I'm not too feeble to do that last part myself." He trundled toward the exit.

"Hold it right there!" With that Spellcaster's lash in her voice, and a wash of gold flame sheeting her eyes, Shayla Kidd seemed like Sailor Moon herself. "A director for love and justice, the pretty soldier in the argyle vest! In the name of the shoot, this Shayla Kidd will punish you!"

What choice did The Suit have? He stopped like a train, turned to face them. Hiei stalked forward; Shay-san was not far behind.

"Interesting take," said Hiei. "But that's not the real story, is it?"

The Suit tugged at his collar. Everyone else inched in closer, all but cupping their hands behind their ears.

"It's not for-" Hiei grimaced- "love, but for money."

"For money?" Shayla Kidd seemed a bit puzzled.

With a shark's grin, The Suit regarded each of them in turn. "Somethin' wrong with making money?"

Hiei glanced at Shayla Kidd.; Kurama at Hiei, Urameshi at the ceiling. No one had any particular argument against that.

"As fer love?" The Suit poked a toe in the carpet. "Well, I, er…."

_Cue realization._

"You know, that whole clumsy thing about Juri and Koto…" Keiko began.

"Too pat by far," agreed Kurama. "I think he arranged it so the sound man and the production manager could have a chance."

"'Wrapped up like a Christmas present,'" mused Shay-san, repeating what The Suit had said earlier. "If you think about it, we all got something. Like a present, almost. I get to direct. Not only do Juri-san and Koto-san get to stretch their creative muscles, but a shot at romance. Kurama and Kuwabara get extra cash and time to study. Botan and Keiko get to be detectives-"

"THOSE two?" Urameshi slapped a knee. "Coupla elephants in a tea shop is more like it."

Keiko snarled something at Urameshi, muffled by Botan's shout of indignation.

Shay-san continued blithely, "-Yuusuke's song will play in the ad, though Lord knows why at this point."

"I think you're on to something," Hiei told her. "So what do I get? A pony?"

"You?" The Suit tilted his head, studying Hiei.

"I wanted to be an evil overlord." Hiei shrugged. "Turns out it's too much work."

"Oh, you got somethin' all right." The Suit gave him a shrewd look. "Yeah. Somethin' you lacked once, 'till you earned it."

"A sister?" Kuwabara offered.

"That can't be it," said Urameshi. "Hiei always had Yukina; it was just a secret."

"Which is out in the open now," Kurama reminded them.

"You're a bright kid." The Suit winked at Hiei. "You'll figure it out."

"I already know." Hiei snorted. "Some present."

"All well and good." Shayla Kidd circled The Suit, examining him from every angle. "But this is like peeling an onion. Layer after layer."

Tugging again at his collar, The Suit stammered that he really had to go now.

Hiei announced, "I believe this guy still has one guilty secret."

The Suit's gaze darted around the room. "Hey, man, secret? Me? C'mon, don't make me laugh-"

"He likes giving away money," said Hiei.

"I got no idea what you're talkin' about."

"And helping people," Hiei continued. "Makes him feel good."

"Good? Bah."

"None of us were born yesterday," said Kurama, somewhat severely.

"Is this true?" Shayla Kidd put in.

"It's true," Kuwabara assured her. "We weren't born yesterday."

"Maybe I was," said Hiei, "because I just now got it. When I ran across this guy, people stepped back from him, but not out of fear. Out of awe."

The Suit waved a hamlike hand. "G'wan."

"I'm right, aren't I?" said Hiei.

"Y'can't prove that in a court of law!"

"Maybe not." Hiei addressed the others. "Sure, he stands to make money. But this venture probably won't pay off for years to come. In the meantime, the hotel's getting business, and all of us have jobs."

The guys in the technical crew paused in their wrap-up to look at one another, nodding. The cast began to murmur among themselves.

The Suit released a long, mournful sigh. "Ya hadda ruin it, didn't you?"

"It's not ruined," said Shay-san. "Not by a long shot."

"You guys are too clever for me." The Suit raised his head and looked them over, half-guilty, half-pleased. "Guess my secret's out."

"Gee." Botan put a hand to her mouth. "I feel really bad now, accusing you of, well, you know."

Taking The Suit by one meaty hand, Shayla Kidd pulled him under a bunch of mistletoe and stood on tiptoe to peck his cheek. He turned the color of merlot; steam rose from his face. "Thanks," she said. "For everything.".

"Hey, c'mon." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't much."

"Yes," Shayla Kidd assured him. "Yes, it was. And your secret's safe with us."

"I, uh, well, hey-" Once again he swabbed his expansive forehead. "Y'know, my niece, she's a real big fan of Romantic Soldier."

Shayla Kidd patted The Suit's massive shoulder. "Then I will personally see she gets an autographed copy of every CD and DVD they ever made."

"Well, I really gotta go this time." With a jaunty wave, The Suit finally made it to the ballroom doors, and they drifted shut behind him.

It got quiet. So quiet Hiei heard the tick of cooling lights. He pondered the mini-drama that had just unfolded "Well, not every fat red _oni_ is Santa Claus in disguise," he concluded, "but this one…"

"…sure was," said Botan.

"And not everything's a deadly battle," added Kuwabara.

Though he did not say it aloud, Hiei was glad of that.

Kurama agreed. "Sometimes the Christmas spirit can overtake even those who don't celebrate it."

"You just can't help yourself," sighed Keiko, moving closer to Urameshi.

Glancing at Keiko, Urameshi opted for a diplomatic silence.

The tension broke. Everyone, cast and crew alike, headed toward the chow line, chattering and laughing-except for the director and one of the stars.

Hiei and Shayla Kidd stood apart from the others. "Poor things." Gazing at the impromptu Christmas party, Shay-san added, "They don't realize I still need to do pick-up shots."

"That's what tomorrow is for. And we'll still bring it in on time and under budget."

"Okay. They can have one afternoon to enjoy themselves." But then Shay-san gave Hiei Look #3-the one that was several Looks short of hurling a vase at his head. "So," she began, "about your 'gift'….I think I can guess what it is."

"Don't say it," warned Hiei.

"It's humility."

"You had to say it."

Hiei wondered. The days of the Dark Tournament. Had it begun then, with his refusal to kill the fallen Bui? Back then, he had called it defiance: "No one tells me what to do."

Humility was something that seemed to have crept up on him; he certainly didn't think he'd earned it, certainly did not think of himself as humble, yet…. without the virtue of humility, he would not have been given _Tenchi no Hi_- the sword known as the Flame of Heaven and Earth, which existed beyond the bounds of time and space, and without which he'd have been as dead as Sakyou, several times over.

One week before Christmas. As if this was nothing more than any ordinary office party, the cast and crew were merrily chowing down. "It was fun," Shay-san admitted. "Looking at them, I'm almost sorry to be leaving this place."

"I'm almost sorry to hear you say that." With great deliberation, Hiei flicked his glance at the mistletoe, then at Shay-san.

"Not in front of the crew," she admonished.

He faked a scowl. "I really should have asked for a pony."

"Who needs a pony when there's a broom closet just around the corner?"

"Ch. That broom-closet speech of The Suit's... puts a guy right off."

She gave him Look # 4, half-mocking, half-enticing. "You? Mistletoe? Out in the open?"

Crossing his arms, Hiei gave her look for look. "What were you just saying about humility?"

"Are you calling this humiliation?" She reached out, uncrossed his arms.

"I don't dare call it anything."

"Cue mistletoe." She slid her hands up to his shoulders.

_Lights_, _camera…Action._

He almost had time to murmur, "Merry Christmas."

-30-


End file.
